


Secret Wildness

by bluehawthorn



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Barduil - Freeform, Dale - Freeform, Elvenking, F/M, Face-Sitting, Female Bard, Gender or Sex Swap, Light Bondage, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, Queen of Dale, Rope Bondage, Smut, Table Sex, The Bardlings are Asleep, post-BotFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:12:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4059571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehawthorn/pseuds/bluehawthorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The new Queen of Dale finds her responsibilities much easier to bear once The King of Mirkwood begins visiting her regularly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unleashing

**Author's Note:**

> New obsession:Fem!Bard.

Bard knows that she is attractive. 

Not that she is vain. She has neither the time nor the inclination for that. 

But she knows her strengths. She has had to use every one of them to survive.

She is tall and slender, and strong from years working the barge and bow. She has full lips and fierce eyes. Her dark hair lies in messy curls around her shoulders and she wears it pulled back at the temples to keep it clear of her face. 

She is a skilled fighter, one who has slayed a dragon and survived the battle for the Lonely Mountain. And, she supposes, she is also now a leader. The Queen of Dale, the people call her, although such a thing has not yet been made formal. 

Still, she comes from humble beginnings and it surprises her - even after all that has happened and although it is not the first time - to have the elvenking here in her bedroom. More specifically, to have him tied naked to her bed. 

His long, well-muscled arms are stretched over his head, secured to the wooden headboard. The ropes travel down from there, wrapping in wide diamond patterns across his smooth chest and stomach, down his legs to where his feet are also tied to the lower bedposts. 

She is very experienced with knotwork and has made it something of an art to restrain her new lover in ways that display his beauty well. She has spent particular time and care twining the rope around his pelvis and thighs, encircling his cock so that it stands straight and engorged, waiting for her attention.

And she lets him wait. He is a patient man, and lies watching her while she slowly undresses and freshens herself up. He looks impassive and calm, but she has quickly learned to read the subtle cues of his desire and knows that he enjoys a slow build to their encounters. The longer she draws this out, the more ardent he will be later. 

Which is exactly how she wants him.

 

********

The first time he came to her new quarters in Dale, he arrived unannounced in the late evening, asking for a private audience. She invited him in and he ordered his small guard to stay outside. 

They sat across from each other in her receiving room, which at the time was furnished only with a rug and a long wooden table. Her children were already in bed, so she was unrushed. She served him wine and answered his polite questions about the rebuilding of Dale, restoring relations with Erebor and repairing the shattered lives of her people.

Finally, he paused for a moment, his hands folded on the table in front of him, and said slowly, “How are _you _faring, Bard?”__

The question took her so aback that she quickly replied, “What do you mean?”

Thranduil's lips curved in a small smile. “In all of this. How are you? You have taken on large new burdens very quickly. It was a very long time ago, but I remember what it was like to assume the mantle of leadership suddenly and under duress."

Thinking of the time span he was referring to was dizzying. She knew little of the elvenking's history but she did know that he had ruled in the forest for hundreds upon hundreds of years. It was something a human could not truly fathom.

As for his interest in her wellbeing, she never would have thought he particularly cared. They had been allies in the recent battle, and he had been kind and respectful enough to her then, but in general she had thought him distant and relatively dismissive of humans. She could not really blame him. Their lives were so short compared to his own that they must seem insignificant.

How _was _she? His asking had made something open up inside her, gave it permission to exist, and she felt almost like crying for a moment. Not that she would of course. She took a deep breath and considered how to answer, deciding to simply be honest. And so she let herself do a quick internal scan and acknowledge how she felt.__

"I suppose I am reeling a bit. And overwhelmed." She rolled her shoulders. "Tired. And tense. But I will be alright."

"Have you been sleeping?"

She thinks about it for a moment. "No, not much."

At this, he got up from the table and came around behind her, every movement spare and elegant, his long robes glimmering silver in the candlelight. 

Her heart had begun pattering in her chest, her blood pooling in her limbs. She could not discern why he was there and although her instincts had not registered any danger she certainly felt unbalanced and wary.

Thranduil came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She flinched but then immediately felt a rushing of warm energy pulsing through her. It felt incredible, sweeping away exhaustion and soothing every frazzled nerve. 

"Is this alright?" he asked. She hesitated and his hands moved away, hovering a few inches from where they had been, awaiting her answer.

She wanted them touching her again, and so she nodded.

He placed his hands gently back on her shoulders, and there was that wave of energy again. He started kneading the tension from her, his skillful palms and fingers working into her muscles. They curled over the bare skin of her neck and collarbones and she felt another kind of warmth and energy, this one surging up from her belly. 

A small, sharp breath left her lips and he leaned down, his voice honeyed in her ear, "I can help you feel even better, if you wish." 

At that he had stepped back and allowed her to rise from her chair and face him. Her breath was coming short and quick, but he seemed as composed and unruffled as ever. Although looking closely she could see that his face showed signs of flushing, his pupils dilated, his lips red against the backdrop of his pale skin and long silver-gold hair.

He stood perfectly still, watching her weigh things out in her mind, waiting. The luxury of immortality, it seemed, was always having time to wait for what you wanted. And, as surprising as it was, she realized he wanted her...that he was offering himself to her.

Her heart continued to race. There was no denying it. She wanted him back. 

Badly. 

She tried to think things out, to consider the larger ramifications, to be wise and careful. But the truth was that her body needed this, she needed this. And so she had whispered, simply, "Yes."

He smiled, just a small but excruciatingly sexy smile, and closed the space between them, wrapping his arm around her back and pulling her up into a knee-weakening, breathtaking kiss. 

He nudged her up against the table and lifted her onto it, spreading her knees apart so that he could stand between them. His hands came to rest on her thighs. He kissed her until her chest was heaving and her mouth was tingling and awake.

One of his hands slid to her lower back and he pulled her forward, tight against him. She could feel his hardness pressed against her and found herself gasping, her head falling back.

He leaned down and his mouth was seeking at her throat, his breath hot on her skin. "Are you sure this is what you want?" he muttered against it.

"Yes," she said again, breathlessly.

"Good," he said. "Do not worry. I will not get you with child. And I will stop any time you ask."

And with that he eased her down so that she laid across the table. She had only a moment to wonder at what she was doing before he was slowly removing her boots and breeches. He kissed her stomach and thighs as they were revealed, soft wet kisses that left her whimpering, her body moving into them of its own accord.

Once she was bare from the waist down, he ran his hands over her legs, leaning down to lick and bite at her skin. She found herself aching each time he moved away. 

He traced his fingertips over her stretchmarks for a few moments and she looked up at him curiously. He hummed appreciatively. "Such proud marks of fertility. Human women have so much of it and use it so extravagantly." He leaned down and drew his lips over them, making her shudder.

When finally she could not bear it anymore and was moaning with longing, he laughed and undid his robes, revealing the long graceful lines of his torso and leaving only his breeches. He laid himself down along her body, pinning her to the table. "Mortals have such little patience." 

He kissed her again, long and deep. Her hands twined around his neck, the silky length of his hair cascading over her arms. 

"Fear not. You will get what you want," he whispered against her jaw, his hand sliding down her thigh, which was raised to one side of him. He lifted his body just the tiniest bit and his fingers found the core of her, startling her with the intensity of it. 

They danced along the places where she was slick and sensitive and then several of them slipped inside her, making her cry out, her hips tilting forward hungrily. He fucked her this way until she was on the brink of coming, leaning down to swallow her cries with his mouth.

"The human body blossoms so readily. Soon Bard. Soon, but not yet."

He leaned over to drag a chair up behind him and sat, pulling her forward until her legs were draped over his shoulders. Then he proceeded to pleasure her with his mouth - his sensual, ancient mouth which she had since learned could drive her nearly to madness with sensation - until she was hectic with longing, her body arcing off the table. 

He nuzzled into her folds and flicked his tongue over and around her clit, pulling it gently against his lips. He knew exactly where to put pressure and where to place just a fluttering of touch. She was losing herself, gasping and straining.

"You are sweet as nectar," he murmured, and the sound of his voice nearly pushed her over the brink. 

The noises pouring from her were growing louder. She was helpless to stop them and could only hope that the distance to the bedrooms in their new home were enough that the children would not hear her. 

And then he was sliding his fingers back inside her and his mouth grew more insistent. 

Another few seconds and she threw her head back, her arm tossed across her face. She had to bite into the flesh of her forearm to contain the sound that tore out of her as she spiraled into an orgasm so intense that Thranduil wrapped his arms around her thighs to hold her down under his final attentions as she bucked and spasmed. 

When every last shock of pleasure had been wrung from her, he pulled away, moving her trembling legs back up to the tabletop. Then he stood and walked gracefully a few paces away to take a drink of wine from a cup that had miraculously remained unspilled. 

This gave her just a moment to recover before she realized that he was pulling off his breeches, revealing an erection as impressive and lovely as the rest of him. She looked up at him as he positioned himself over top of her again, his bearing straight and regal, his face serious and beautiful.

He pulled her down the table towards him, asking "Are you ready?" She nodded, still in a haze of afterglow, and he moved her legs up so that her feet rested on the arms of the chair behind him. 

He then spread her lips with the head of his cock, and sunk into her slow and easy. As he did, his eyes closed and his mouth parted, the breath leaving him in a quick exhale. She could feel her body stretching to make room for him.

When he was fully inside, he opened his eyes and looked at her hard and hungry. Then he reached up to undo her tunic, his hands running firmly over her breasts and stomach as he began to fuck her, deep and unhurried.

Eventually he pulled her up to sitting, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands were on her buttocks tilting her forward into each of his strokes, which were growing sharper and faster. 

Their bodies were pressed together now, and one of his hands was in her hair pulling her head back so that he could lick and bite at her neck and ears.

A kind of ecstasy was spreading through her again, something rapturous like what a tree must feel when it's sap rose in the spring. He seemed to sense it. He picked up his rhythm and lost some of his control, groaning into her ear and crushing her body to his. 

And then it was pulsating in her, near-blinding pleasure coursing through every part of her body, radiating out from where he struck something deep inside her over and over. She shouted into his shoulder and gripped his back, holding on as she was wracked with the build and peak of it.

He growled her name and then she could feel him spill into his own climax, thrusting hard into her and clutching at her hips. She watched his face break, overcome with feeling as he came to his finish.

After, as they got dressed and he asked if she would like him to come to her again, she once more answered simply "Yes."


	2. Freedom

Since then Thranduil has been right - she does feel better.

She has continued with the mind numbing and body breaking work of rebuilding Dale, seeing to her people and raising her children. But now, the elvenking comes to her once or twice a fortnight and leaves her sheened with sweat and sated to her very bones. She is unsure if she has ever slept better in her life.

She has spent so much time feeling tired and grim. But Thranduil has unleashed something in her and it is a new wellspring of energy, renewed every time they are together.

She has taken other lovers since her husband’s death, but infrequently and none of them truly satisfied her. Not until Thranduil. He has the ability to make her nearly weep with pleasure and also gives her the space to express herself. As she plans to tonight.

He is not like human men and she does not feel the need for inhibitions with him. There is an immense freedom in it. While she has sometimes felt like too much for her past lovers, like she needed to hold back, Thranduil seems to relish her secret wildness. In all his years there is little he has not seen already and he expects nothing from her except that she enjoy herself.

When she is ready to do just that, she saunters to the bed. She is wearing only a white nightgown with thin straps that stops at midthigh.

She lays herself down over his torso and kisses him, slow and open mouthed, dragging her tongue over his lower lip and pulling at it with her teeth. Through the sheer material of her shift, her backside is pressed against his cock, which is held upright by the ropes. She hears his breath quicken and sees his eyes grow darker.

She backs down him, licking at his nipples as she goes and lifting herself to clear the length of his cock, allowing her belly and breasts to graze it, eliciting a sharp exhale. She lets the heat of her breath ghost over the swollen head as she crawls backwards, then rises to straddle his thighs. 

She looks up at him and smiles, putting all of her intent into the expression so that he can read it there. He seems to like what he sees, his lips parting and his chest rising and falling in a faster rhythm. She looks down at him for a moment, savouring her power. She plans to wreck him with it, like he has wrecked her with pleasure so many times before.

Then, quick enough to make him gasp, she wraps her palm tight around his cock and plunges her mouth down over it, taking it deep enough that her lips meet her hand. She tilts her head back and forth, sliding her mouth over the head and grazing the shaft with her teeth, pumping with her hand at the same time, hard and fast.

She allows her spit to drip down to wet the length of him, lending slip to the path of her hand while she sucks, making him moan. And then as suddenly as she began she lets him go. Already his ribs are heaving and desire is written all over his face. It makes lust uncoil thick and writhing in her belly.

She positions herself up over his cock, and leaves it there for a moment so that the tip settles into the wet heat of her. Then, with agonizing slowness, she lets him penetrate her, holding herself tightly around each inch of him as it comes to be inside. 

He groans and mumbles her name, trying to reach for her but held back by the ropes. She fucks him at her own pace, letting every nerve awaken around him and teasing him deliberately with the rise and fall of her hips, the slide and pull of her.

And then quickly she lifts off him, moving down to take him up in her mouth again, tasting herself on him. Now he is moaning in earnest, his head thrown back and his arms straining against their bonds. She runs her tongue flat up along his cock, drawing it back into her throat. Squeezing tightly she pulls back until just the tip of it is between her lips before swallowing it again.

After repeating this a few times, she releases him from her mouth and remounts him, lowering herself down onto his length and riding him in long fluid movements. When she can feel them both tensing, she climbs off once more. She wants to continue stoking the flames of their arousal so that climax will be all the more intense when they reach it. 

She reaches up and draws her fingernails down over his chest and stomach, making him arch up off the bed. She runs her fingertips gently over the creases of his thighs and then begins to stroke one after the other of her hands over his cock, her touch firm and slick from her own juices. She varies the pressure in just the right places to make him growl and twist in the knots that bind him.

She loves seeing him like this. He is particularly beautiful when at her mercy. She climbs back atop him, this time fucking him harder, her hands braced against his stomach. She allows the entirety of him to slip out of her and drives herself back down onto it over and over. She is achingly full of him, her senses narrowing to the sensation of him inside her, the rush of his helplessness and pleasure beneath her, the sounds he is making.

She can feel him trying to constrain himself, unused to not having control. He takes a few long breaths and said, “Come here. Let me taste you.”

She prowls up along his body, keeping eye contact, coming to sit astride his chest. “You want to taste me?" she asks seductively.

“Yes,” he replies hoarsely.

At this, she brings herself just far enough forward that he can brush his tongue against her clit and then slowly lowers herself against his mouth so that he can suckle at it. He strains to reach her, stretching his neck forward to nudge and nip at her with his lips and tongue. 

It feels so good that she leans in, steadying herself against the headboard. Then she is tilting her pelvis into his ministrations, riding his mouth. It is beyond exquisite, making her cry out and shove her hips forward.

When she is a hairsbreadth from coming, which takes little time at all with his face between her thighs, she backs down to impale herself again on his cock. This time, she abandons herself to fucking him. The blood is pounding through her, and she is swelling with pleasure. He too is coming near to his end. She can feel it in how he pulls against his restraints, wanting to thrust into her.

And then she can feel his body still, pushing up as much as he can while tied to the bed. She slams down onto him repeatedly, and can feel him throb in her as his orgasm begins, feel the warm liquid heat of it. It sends ripples of pleasure through her and she shatters around him, her orgasm unravelling every stress and irritation of the last week and replacing it with pure release.

Afterward, she feels a surge of victory to see him breathless and mussed, in as much disarray as he is probably capable of. His lips are swollen and there are marks along his chest from where she scratched him earlier. His body is still quaking subtly with aftershocks and his face is soft and satiated.

When she can catch her own breath, she moves to untie him. He gathers his calm back around him like a cloak and lounges there as though not wound around with rope, watching her. Ever the king, arrogant and commanding.

And yet despite their vast difference in age and experiences, he treats her as his equal. In fact, he encourages her to take up the mantle of queen and seems to trust her as an ally. It feels good to have the support and counsel of a monarch who has already been ruling for thousands of years as she steps into her new role. Not that they talk much about such things or much at all. But still, she finds it comforting.

"I have rarely allowed anyone to bind me before," he says in that smooth low voice that she finds irresistible.

"No?"

"No," he says. "Usually I am the one doing the restraining, but I love to see you surrender to your wilder urges. It suits you, taking charge."

"I am learning how to do so in all areas of my life it would seem." She laughs. "Thank you."

She does not explain what she is thanking him for but they both know it is for more than the words he just spoke or for the sex they just had. He nods in acknowledgment and as she slides the last knot free, takes her by the arms and pulls her down into a long, languorous kiss. 

She yields to him and he gathers her up in his arms, nestling her against him in the quiet of the night, here in this new home he has given her the strength to rebuild from the ashes of so much old pain.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing from the Hobbit. 
> 
> Comments very welcome, and much appreciated.


End file.
